


A case of decidedly less-than-appropriate behaviour

by tsnitch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Bad Flirting, Bad Jokes, Consensual, Dirty Talk, Drug Use, Flirting, Hallucinating, Humor, M/M, Mild psychosis, Powerful Harry, Rough Sex, Sassy Draco, Sexual Humor, Sexy Draco, Some Plot, Spanking, Undercover, Unspeakable Draco, Violence, innuendos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-03-29 21:32:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3911410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsnitch/pseuds/tsnitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is a consulting Auror that stumbles in on a case regarding not-yet-illegal sense enhancing potions. Mostly because Malfoy is already there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mr Not So Pleasant Any More and the Dragon

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm hoping to finish this fic in no more than three chapters. 
> 
> I do not own the characters or the world of Harry Potter of course, nor do I earn any money doing this. 
> 
> Kudos = Love <3

Bored out of my mind, I sit in the lobby of an up-scale hotel in central London. Drinking afternoon tea, as if I didn’t have better things to worry about. Nevertheless, a job is a job, and I relished the opportunity to give Ron a night off (with the baby and all). My over-large hands seemed ridiculous grasping the small scones. My eyes are trained on the doors and suddenly, I almost choke on my scone.

 

The most beautiful blond stepped in. Long, slender legs, a small and perky arse, hair to the shoulders and dressed to kill in black expensive jeans and a white shirt. A bit on the up-tight side, begging to be undone, walking around like a self-appointed god amongst the mundane. At first I see the pout of his lips and arch’s of his eyebrows, before I realise that it's Draco Malfoy.

 

The same Draco Malfoy who no one has seen for at least three years. My curiosity is peaked, I am drawn to him like a dragon to an (decidedly very sexy) egg. His companion is a tall brunette, not necessarily a Brit, judging by the suntanned skin and bronze locks. A familiar, a lover perhaps, counting the casual touches and short distances between them.

 

My informant told me about a huge drug deal going through in this very hotel. What was Malfoy's connection? I can't help but feel as if I was sixteen years old again, suspecting Malfoy of foul play. Maybe this was some kind of coincidence? But why would he be here if not for something big? People doesn’t just disappear for three years and then surface to go on a holiday with their lover. No. Something was definitely up, and it wasn’t only happening in my pants. Holy Merlin he certainly benefited from growing up.

 

I have a feeling that this is some kind of sign, so I wipe my hands and decide to intercept them at the elevator. 

 

“Hold the doors please!” Precisely before the elevator doors are closing, I manage to get a foot in. The doors slide open to reveal an annoyed looking couple and a handful of... thugs? Bodyguards?

 

The annoyed look quickly changes to one of politeness from the unknown gentleman, no doubt because he recognises me as one of the most powerful wizards in the world, and one look of.. shock? Malfoy's certainly gotten better at schooling his expressions. 

 

“Oh! Hello Malfoy! Long time no see!” I exclaim. Giving him an insincere smile. At his answering look of utter shock (no mistaking it this time), my smile involuntarily changes to one of joy. I always loved getting under his skin. 

 

“Do you two know each other?” Mr Perfect White Teeth asks. 

 

“We go way back actually, went to the same school. Didn’t we Malfoy?” I'm liking this situation more and more, observing the faint flush of attractive pink that suffuses Malfoys cheeks. 

 

“Is that right?” Mr Way Too Much Hair-Gel asks. 

 

“What are you doing here Potter?” Malfoy doesn’t really have the balls to look in my eyes. A ploy? Or maybe he has heard the rumours circulating about my extensive power. I do not dispute them, fear gives me a certain edge in confrontations, never mind that they’re true. 

 

“What have I said about that attitude Draco?” Mr Not So Pleasant Any More suddenly grabs Malfoys neck and forces his head down. I'm suddenly feeling very uncomfortable, but my hunch about something weird going on only intensifies to a feeling of certainty. 

 

“Excuse him. He's not house-trained yet.” The man gives me a sickeningly sweet smile. “But his beauty is beyond comparison. Wouldn’t you say so Mr Potter? Or are you... otherwise inclined?”

 

“Let say that I am immensely appreciative of all beautiful things.” I say, with a glance towards Malfoy.

 

“A man after my own heart!” He says, a satisfied smile emerging, not doubt thinking about how suave he is, succeeding in charming The Chosen One. 

 

“I'm sorry, I don't seem to recall introducing myself! I'm Kristos Samaras.” He is reaching out his rather large hand for a handshake. 

 

Even though I'd really rather not, I accept his handshake with a smile and a slightly inclined head. 

 

“Could I be so bold as to offer you a drink in our suite? It's not every day you get the chance to meet the saviour of the wizarding world.” He says, still smiling in a disturbingly carefree way. 

 

“Why not. Maybe it would give me a chance to catch up with Malfoy as well.” I'm giving out a vibe that screams 'doing you a favour' to uphold the public persona of me being a nouveau riche, celebrity playboy. Or else I can't do my job as a consulting Auror. Nobody but Ron and Hermione knows about my profession (that I even have a profession), and that's mostly because Ron is my partner. 

 

Mr Samaras clears his throat pointedly and looks at Malfoy.

 

“Please, call me Draco.” Malfoy apparently gets the hint. 

 

“Excellent!” I exclaim, making it abundantly obvious that I'm not giving them the same courtesy of using my given name. The social power-plays always made me a bit sick to my stomach. Give me a life-threatening duel any day, it's preferable over this tripe. 

 

PING! The elevator arrives a the pent-house suite, not surprisingly. 

 

“Please come in.” Mr Samaras gestures with his whole arms invitingly. 

 

I step inside, moving towards the white sofas and chairs situated in front of a glass-wall showcasing magnificent views of the city. 

 

“Nice room.” I say, circumventing the fact that the “room” is more like a very large apartment, to keep the power unbalanced. 

 

“Yes. We rather like it here. Don't we Dragon?” He turns towards Malfoy with a smirk. 

 

“Yes, very much so.” Malfoy answers obligingly. 

 

“Why don't you go and put on something more comfortable?” Mr Samaras says, wanting to speak to me alone? 

 

“Yes sir.” Malfoy bows and disappears towards one of the other rooms.

 

“A drink Mr Potter?” Mr Samaras moves towards a fully stocked bar. 

 

“Firewhiskey, Dragon reserve distillery, If you have it.” I say. 

 

“Certainly.” He pours the liquor in two crystal tumblers. I don't wait for him to give me permission to sit, so I choose one of the chairs overlooking the room. The burly men are still in the room, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

 

“Do you have any other passions besides appreciating beauty, Mr Potter?” He gives me the tumbler, and the golden liquid inside looks smooth as silk. 

 

“A few. Investing in some business-ventures, while trying to experience all the best things of life I guess.” I shrug, but give him a smug smile, possibly hinting about what kind of things constitutes the 'best things of life'. 

 

“I see. I dare to say that we have much of the same aspirations.” He smiles, possibly hinting at 'message understood'. 

 

Malfoy is striding back into the main room, wearing thin, soft looking black trousers and an open black-silk robe with pale-gold stitchings. His hair is pulled up in a very high ponytail which renders his cheekbones positively deadly. His feet are bare. I can't help the involuntary swallow, feeling the tightness of my throat threatening to strangle me for a short second. I think it was the sharpness of his hipbones, obscenely displayed by his open robe, that almost did me in. They looked way too chewable.

 

He takes a seat at the sofa, together with Mr Samaras who looks extremely smug. Must've noticed my reaction, however small it was. 

 

“Now, now my Dragon. This will not do. Come here so I can pet you.” He points at the floor beneath where he is sitting.

 

“Yes sir.” Malfoy says, but the colour rising in his cheeks, flushing his chest, tells me that he is embarrassed about being seen like this. I actually feel sorry for him. The fact that it's me sitting here, and not someone else, must make it so much worse. 

 

He lowers himself down gracefully to the floor, his knees splayed wide, his eyes downcast. Even if he's beautiful like this, the humiliation of it is making me really fucking uncomfortable. Malfoy obviously does not want this, and my damned saviour-complex is screaming at me to not just sit here and let it happen. 

 

But I can't do anything right now. And it makes me sick.

 

Mr Samaras smirk is equally sickening. 

 

“You seem quite taken with him.” Mr Samaras smugness is really rubbing me the wrong way. 

 

“He is beautiful, as you are well aware.” I concede.

 

“Yes, and so is he, unfortunately.” He strokes Malfoys neck absent-mindedly. 

 

“How did you two meet, if you don't mind me asking?” I can't help but ask. 

 

“We met at a party. My Dragon was a bit down on his luck.” He said, waving a hand as if to indicate that it wasn’t anything of relevance.

 

“Oh yeah?” 

 

“Yes. Working as an escort at the time.” He smiles fondly at Malfoy. 

 

“It definitely sounds like you know how to party.” I say, hoping for an invite so that I can continue my investigation. 

 

“One of my many talents.” He pauses. “As a matter of fact, I'm actually throwing a party this weekend, and I would be honoured if you wanted to come.” He says, not really asking. 

 

“That would be lovely.” I smile.

 

“I will have my people contact yours with the details.” He says, and I get up to go, satisfied with the progress. 

 

“Thank you for the drink but I must be on my way now. Other drinks to enjoy, other beauties to appreciate.” I say and offer my hand for him to shake once more. 

 

“The pleasure was all mine Mr Potter. I'll see you this Saturday I hope?” He's a bit stressed about me leaving so soon, and his calm façade crumbles for just a bit, causing him to ask for a confirmation. Which shifts the power-balance to my favour again. 

 

“There is a strong possibility, yes.” I grant him on my way out the door. 

 

–----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Hey mate!” Rons smiling face is exactly what I need right now. 

 

“Hallo Ronnikins.” I bat my eyelashes at him, fully aware that I could never get away with coyness.

 

“Stop rubbing your gay on me, you old fart!” He laughs.

 

“Could I come over? I feel like Mr Potter is drenched in the stench of subtle manipulation and arse-kissing, stuck up wankers.” I'm not above begging at this point, still feeling soiled by the meeting with Mr Samaras. 

 

“Oh don't give me that shit again, we all know that you are the biggest wanker of all.” But Ron smiles at me with sympathy. He knows how I feel about having to pose as this attention-seeking phony. Ron handles his “alter-ego” in a much better way, probably because of Hermiones support but also because of his slightly lesser celebrity-status.

 

“Don't abandon me in my hour of need Ron, this isn't the woods.” 

 

“Will you two ever let me live that one down?! Fine, come on over and we can sit on the sofa for a while, but you are on foot-rubbing duty, consider it payment for interrupting our baby-is-asleep-time. It's precious. And rare.” He grumbles, but in a mostly non-serious way. Hermione nags me to come over almost every day of the week. 

 

“Yes fine. But you know that only makes her love me more.” I smirk but goes through the floo. 

 

Hermione owns a house in the country. Her political career is going swimmingly and subsequently we can't be seen together much in public. My bad-boy image would hurt her career. This is the primary reason for her house to be surrounded by acres of wards and impenetrable defences. So that we can be together, without anyone knowing. Ron has a much more secretive role to play in the public eye, and is almost only known to have a lot of money. Nobody knows about them being married, about the baby. And they want to keep it that way. Even though Hermione is trying to change the Ministry, and me and Ron trying to clear up the streets, change takes time. Feels like it takes too bloody long sometimes.

 

“What have I said about you contacting me at home lover-boy?! My husband might find out!” Hermione exclaims, greeting me with an abundance of curls and the most brilliant smile. 

 

“Har-bloody-har.” Ron sighs and slumps down in the well-worn sofa. 

 

I take a seat as well and Ron passes me a beer. I settle in to watch some show about “escaping to the country” on TV, and feel like myself for the first time all day. 

 

–----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

It's Saturday and the invitation regarding an up-scale party on the docks arrived as promised. I dress in four different outfits before choosing the first one, trying to tell myself that the reason for the uncharacteristic showing of nerves is not one specific hot blond. 

 

Black shirt, black slacks, black shoes. It matches my hair, I hear Hermione joke deadpanned in my head. 

 

I'm still not really used to seeing my face without my glasses. In some ways the absence of them makes my public-persona all the more real to me. I wish I still had them, if only to feel like myself when I'm at home. But they disappeared sometime in the aftermath of the battle of Hogwarts, and Kingsleys public-relations advisor told me to wear contacts to get rid of my innocent image (never mind that my innocence was long gone by then). I needed to look the part of a dark wizard, or at least a powerful one, to get invited to all kind of shady stuff people who are attracted to power want me to support/endorse/enjoy. Mostly I take it apart, with the inside knowledge those idiots are supplying me with.

 

I grab a watch (also black) and choose the shiniest shoes I have. Almost time for the portkey that came with the invitation to activate. 

 

I check myself in the mirror one more time, and this time all I see is Mr Potter. Good. 

 

A lurching in my gut is followed directly of me arriving at some kind of a ware house. It's full of people already mingling, a giant bar, and a pulsating group of people dancing. There is an upstairs, must be a VIP area, and the whole place is decked-out in fairy. Illegal. 

 

There are several unreachable platforms with Veela-dancers on top. Makes the crowds extra horny. It's very lucky that I'm immune to that stuff. Sex makes you blow your cover. 

 

Mr. Samaras must have seen me arrive, and he walks towards me with his arms outstretched in a deceptively friendly manner. 

 

“Mr. Potter! Welcome!” I reluctantly grasp his hand in a firm handshake. 

 

“Couldn't miss out on all the fun now, could I?” I say, trying for a charming smile. Hermione says Mr. Potters smiles always looks insincere, but that makes it all the more intimidating so I don't really care. 

 

“Feel right at home. You are of course welcome on the VIP balcony, and your drinks are on the house.” 

 

“Where are the bathrooms? I was hoping to get a head start.” I let Mr. Samaras believe that I need them to take my potions in private, because that's what high-profile people do. Drugs in bathrooms. Never really got why that is considered glamorous. 

 

“It's past the bar to your right. Could I offer you a sample of my own?” 

 

“Yeah sure. What is it?” Bingo.

 

“It's called Focus, and it heightens your senses.” He says, and offers me a vial with a clear red substance. 

 

“Thank you.” I say grabbing it, and walking away before he can say anything more.

 

The dancing people clear a way for me as I walk towards the bathrooms. Some try to catch my eye or entice me with their grinding moves but I keep my stare straight ahead. Aloof. 

 

As soon as I open the door, someone grabs me and pushes me inside a stall. I quickly reverse our positions and slam the assailant up against the wall of the tiny cubicle. 

 

“Potter! You utter moron! I will not tolerate you stumbling in on this, totally unprepared, probably with the whole gang of blubbering buffoons on standby, when I've been working this case for TWO MONTHS!” He scream-whispers. Uncannily like Hermione actually. Making me immediately aware that he; 1. Knows that I'm working with the Aurors and 2. must therefore be an Unspeakable because of his high-level clearance and because he is claiming to be working on this case.

 

“Hello Malfoy. I missed you.” I say, with great satisfying results as he colours a fetching shade of soft pink. Exquisite, really.

 

“No Potter! This is were you say: I can see that you have the situation under control and I will remove myself from your vicinity immediately.” He says, as soon as he recovered from the shock from the newness of me saying anything that's not directly hostile.

 

“How can you expect me to leave you so soon? I've only just found you again!” I say, unable to stop myself from smiling like the kneazle that ate the canary when he actually starts spluttering. Almost involuntarily, I move my body a little closer towards him. 

 

“This is highly inappropriate.” He more like whisper-whispers. And Merlin, I just want to eat him (out) up. I love the posh ones. 

 

“I could show you inappropriate if you want.” I can't help but say. I know it's bad but he served that one right up. 

 

“Really Potter? You named your dick inappropriate?” He says, with an eyebrow mockingly raised and a smirk playing on his (absolutely sinful) lips. He regains his equilibrium fast, I can't help but admire that. 

 

“Ha! No, he doesn't have a name, unlike lord Pilkington the third over there.” I say and pointedly looks at his crotch.

 

“Who were the first two?” He says, on the brink of laughing. Not the only brink I want to keep him at. Again and again preferably. 

 

I'm rendered a bit stupid and speechless because of that blinding smile he directs at me. I think this is the first time he actually smiles at me. Makes me hope for many more smiles. The pathetic sap that I am. 

 

“Is our proximity making it hard to concentrate? You should release me Potter.” He stares smugly at my hands clasped against his arms, holding him in place against the wall. 

 

“Concentrating is not the only thing that's hard right now.” I say, still not releasing him. 

 

“Stop it with the innuendos Potter, you're embarrassing yourself.” He says, he still has a small smile lurking in the corner of his mouth though. 

 

I press my hips towards his, and find him evidently aroused. 

 

“Is that what embarrassment feels like?” I whisper against his ear.

 

And suddenly, the hard glare that is very familiar to me returns.

 

“Get your hands off me Potter!” He spits. 

 

And I release him immediately. 

 

“I'm sorry.” I say, sincerely.

 

“If you think that I'm the submissive that he's showing off to all his friends, you are more stupid than you look.” He pushes a pointy finger hard against my chest. 

 

“I wouldn't dream of it, I know you're playing a role.” 

 

“And holding me immobilised against a wall whilst pushing your erection against me is not a way to assume that my sexual preferences is submissive?” He says, raising a condescending eyebrow. 

 

“I got caught up in the moment. My apologies.” 

 

Suddenly the booth beside ours starts to move in a very telling way, and moans start spilling. Malfoy blushes again. Irresistible.

 

“Keep it professional, Auror Potter.” 

 

“I can do that. What can you tell me about this?” I show him the vial of Focus.

 

“It's a sense enhancement potion. Causes heart-attacks, temporary deafness, and sometimes psychosis if you over use. Not yet illegal in the UK. Look, Potter, I really don't need you here, and you should move on to another case.” He says, sounding irritated again. 

 

“Well I think I'll stay. For awhile at least.” 

 

He tries to stare me into submission after that. Doesn’t really work though, he hasn’t got anything on Snape. Or Vernon. Or least of all on good old Riddle. I'm practically immune.

 

“Keep out of my way then! I swear to you, if you bollocks this up, in any way, I'm going to have your head mounted on my wall.” Rather have you mounted on my lap, I think, but this time I keep my mouth shut. 

 

He stalks out of the stall and slams the door shut. Well.. That could have gone better.


	2. The saviour-complex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came out way more serious than I planned. I'm sorry. I loved the comments on the last chapter. Thank you for reading! 
> 
> WARNING: This chapter contains hallucinating and a mild psychosis due to drug (potion) use

I put a glamour on my eyes to dilate my pupils and I step out of the lavatories after the obligatory 28 seconds that you're supposed to wait, so that no one will suspect me and Malfoy being in there together. It feels ridiculous actually, who decided on 28 seconds? Is it just an even number or are there actual scientific studies that indicates that 28 seconds is the optimal amount of waiting? I've never been one for details. 

 

The atmosphere in the main room is stifling. The sultry beat is making me sweat and people are being more forward now because of the shock of seeing me is receding. People's hands are reaching for me. It feels a lot like when the Infiri was trying to drag me under the water. I push myself harder towards the bar. 

 

“I'll have a Rotting Carcass please.” I tell the bartender who immediately came to serve me. 

 

“I'll put it on Mr. Samaras tab, Mr Potter.” He tells me, with an insincere smile. 

 

When he gives me my drink he tries to hold on to my hand a bit too long. I turn my back to him, this is why I hate meeting new people. 

 

I stand leaning against the bar and watching the scene. At least eight people in my direct vicinity is high, probably on this new potion. Malfoy, dressed in all white, are dancing in the absolute throng of things. He has different suitors on every side, pushing up against him. Malfoys hair, shining almost like silver in this light, are starting to stick to his face. The white clothes makes him look naked, makes him stand out. With one arm in the air, he undulates his hips in a mockery of what sex with him would look like. He is magnificent, with his eyes closed and his mouth open, he looks like he is in ecstasy, like a fallen angel in the mist of sinners and bodies. 

 

I can't concentrate, like I told you, sex makes you blow your cover. I need to look at something else, or else the temptation of going over to him is going to win out over focusing on the case. I knock back my very bitter drink and decide to make my way over to the VIP balcony. 

 

“Mr Potter! Allow me to make introductions.” Mr Samaras waves me over to his table. Three men in their forties and fifties are sitting there staring at me like they've seen a ghost, well it's not that far off, seeing as I've been dead. 

 

“This is Mr Silkes, Mr Hansen and Mr Thomas, they're close friends of mine.” I shake hands with them, before sitting down. 

 

“A pleasure, I'm sure.” I say, giving them my best shark-impression. 

 

“Likewise.” Mr Silkes raises a questioning eyebrow towards Mr Samaras who smiles as if I'm the surprise entertainment. 

 

“Excuse me, Mr Samaras, I found this one getting licked on by some random man down on the dancefloor. Thought you wanted to know.” A burly man pushes Malfoy forward so that he almost falls over. His pupils are shot, and I can't tell if they are glamoured or if he's high. 

 

“I guess punishment is in order, is it not?” 

 

“Whatever you wish, sir.” He answers, eyes downcast and body tense. 

 

“Get on my lap with your arse in the air, pretty boy.” Mr Samaras actually has the nerve to smirk at me when he says this. 

 

The tension around the table thickens, and Malfoy only hesitates for a second before he lowers himself down onto Mr Samaras with his hands on the ground to stabilise himself. Even in this, Malfoy is extraordinary graceful. The silence is deafening.

 

Mr Samaras drags Malfoys white jeans down very slowly, revealing inch by inch of milky skin, the slight swell of plump globes that would be two perfect handfuls in the right hands (my hands). Malfoy has two sweet dimples at the end of his spine, lovely and kissable. 

“Please, save it for later Mr Samaras, I've taken some of your Focus and I'm about two seconds from coming in my pants.” I happily give my social power over to him, as I can't stand the thought of Malfoy being publicly humiliated like this. 

He holds my eyes for too long, looking for something else. Some kind of motive for the intervention? I try to look as blank as possible. 

 

“Ha! Well then, if Mr Potter has such a bad hold on himself, I guess I could punish my Dragon in private.” He turns to Mr Silkes for backup, and all three men look at me nervously whilst laughing weekly. 

 

He pulls Malfoys pants up and Malfoy immediately lowers himself to kneeling on the floor. 

 

“So, how do you like it?” He turns his eyes on me again. 

 

“I find it quite enlightening actually. Makes me realise how nervous you are around me, old chap.” I can't let the disrespect go unchallenged. The tension returns and fills the silence with thrumming. Lucky guess, but a true one, judging by Mr. Samaras tense frame. 

 

“Yes, well, it's not everyday you meet a celebrity of your calibre.” Mr Samaras smile is flat. 

 

“No I guess not.” I say, “Let me buy you gentlemen some drinks, seeing as I ruined the entertainment.” I call on a waiter. 

 

“Give me the most expensive champagne you have! And make it snappy.” The waiter is wide eyed and stunned, hurrying away as soon as I place the order. 

 

“You're too generous.” Mr Silkes says it with a sneer. 

 

“Well if I continue to feel generously inclined, maybe I can take some off that Focus off your hands.” I say, looking all of them directly in the eyes. 

 

“How much would you be interested in?” Mr Silkes asks, revealing his position in the hierarchy. 

 

“Oh I have a lot of friends.” I say, wanting to get some clue about how big their operation might be. 

 

“We could offer you many bottles, depending on how much you're willing to pay.” Mr Hansen is most likely a simple henchman, considering the faux pas. 

 

“I will not talk about money at a party. If you're interested in further discussions, maybe we can settle on another place and time.” I rise, and the champagne arrives with perfect timing. 

 

“Enjoy your drinks gentlemen.” I say abruptly.

 

“Wait! Mr Potter, how about you meet with me at my office next week to discuss our possible venture in a more suitable environment?” Mr Silkes gives me a speculative once over. 

 

“We'll see. How about you owl me a suggestion?” I say glancing disapprovingly at Mr Hansen. 

 

“That's perfectly acceptable. Until next time.” He says, and I shake his hand before leaving. 

 

–-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Back home I peel my sweaty shirt off my back, relishing the freedom of movement being without it gives me. I stayed and flirted a bit with random people, not wanting it to seem as if I was only there for the supposed business. I saw neither Samaras or Malfoy again, standing near the dance floor the whole time, hoping for the latter to show up to dance a bit more. I feel a little bit like I missed out on some serious wank material. 

 

The owl with Mr Silkes business card and a hastily written time and place was waiting for me at home. I can't believe the gullibility of some people. 

 

Arborary Construction Co. is the name of the company that Mr Silkes works for, but he has written the place of another organisations office building on the note. William Silkes, economic administrator, wrote 32 Fielding Mews on his note. 

 

After a bit of research, I discover that the address is listed as an office space owned by NEWSC -corporation, a potions and scientific developments lab, suspiciously non-listed on the Aurors current investigations. Something new then. I immediately feel more excited about this case. 

 

I squeeze myself into a cat-suit, wrapping the invisibility cloak around me, my skin thrumming. It's a good way to work off some steam from earlier, going on a reconnaissance mission. I apparate to a building nearby, needing to check the wards before I risk going in. 

 

The air around me is humid, summer is already here. It's a bit stifling wearing all this fabric. I cast a cooling charm before I get to work on disabling the triggers on their walls, opting to climb the wall, way easier to climb through a window than trying for the door. Most wizards are lazy, crippled by their dependence of their wands. 

 

A window is easily opened with a wire. I heave myself inside. I fire off a locator spell the second I'm there. It travels through the building almost like a sonar, hitting nothing but empty walls. Somehow, it seems to be swallowed by a room on the second floor. That's nothing I've ever seen before. I'm not comfortable enough to take the cloak off, and I walk silently towards the stairs, aiming for the room that swallowed my locator spell. 

 

The door seems like a door to a janitors closet, or a storage room. I put my ear to the door but can't hear anything. 

 

I mumble identification spells on the door, trying to find any triggers or alarms. It might be a trap.  
It comes back clear. That's weird. I open the door lock with the wire, and carefully lay my hand on the door handle. Nothing happens. 

 

I silently pull the door open. 

 

A muffled snivelling meets my ears, it sounds like someone is.... crying?

 

I creep towards the sound, taking care not to reveal myself in any way. 

 

Malfoy is wet and trembling, fastened to a radiator by his wrists, crying softly. 

 

To my own surprise, I seem to have left the cloak on the floor, and I reached him faster than I thought possible. 

 

“Malfoy!” Is out of my mouth before I made a conscious choice to say it.

 

“Harry!” He gasps, “Harry! I knew you would come. Please, please get me out.” His eyes are bloodshot and wild, it seems like he's on some kind of hallucinative. 

 

“Malfoy! What happened?” He tries to grab me, but his hands are tied to the radiator, his wrists bloodied from him trying to get out of the restrains. 

 

“Please Harry.” He looks as if he's going to start to cry. And it takes me two seconds to get over the shock of Malfoy being anything but composed and slightly stuck up. 

 

“Yes, yes of course I'll get you out. I just need to find some loophole in the anti-apparition wards and I'll get you out.” I'm already trying to check the wards with the spells Hermione taught me, but the room seems to be some kind of non-magical bunker.

 

“NO! Please don't leave me again Harry, they'll come back, they always come back.” He is trying to yank his arms away again, and I'm scared he's going to hurt himself. What the fuck did they give him? 

 

“I promise I'll come back and get you out.” I try to be gentle but firm, try to hold him still without freaking him out. 

 

“No, please don't leave me.” He whimpers, and it breaks my heart a little, seeing proud, competent Malfoy looking so scared and defeated. 

 

“I promise I'll come back.” 

 

“No. No please.” And I turn my head to avoid seeing his tears that I know is falling freely now. I hurry off, frankly desperate to try to find some weakness in their wards, to get back to Malfoy as soon as possible. 

 

I close my eyes and try to focus my magic, concentrating hard on expanding it, testing the red ribbons that constitutes the wards, pushing at them with my all my strength. I see some triggers, if I push at the wrong place, the alarm is going to go off, alerting them of my presence. After what feels like an hour of franticly searching, but must be more like fifteen minutes, I find it. A small irregularity in which I can apparate through if I concentrate my magic to function almost like a black-hole (another one of Hermiones spell-inventions). 

 

I run back to him, scared of what I'll discover.

 

“Harry! I knew you would come. Please Harry, you have to get me out.” He is frantic again, seemingly without any memory of me being there just moments ago. 

 

“Yes, I'll get you out.” I cut the magic-repellent cords with a knife from my boot. He throws himself in my arms the moment he is free. 

 

“I knew you would come Harry.” He practically sobs in my ears. I feel like a horrible person for shivering in delight, this is like catnip for my saviour complex. 

 

“I've got you now.” I wrap him in my invisibility cloak and carry him out of the magicless bunker. As soon as I'm out, I focus on the slight dent in the wards. 

 

“Teleportus” I hope to Merlin that the security cameras missed the nano-second it took to open and close the door. 

 

I lay him down in the blue room, one of many unused guest rooms at Grimauld, and I stand up to go floo Hermione, the fail-safe way to handle any and all situations. 

 

“Please, don't leave me Harry.” His eyes are pleading but his grip is surprisingly strong and very unforgiving. 

 

“You're safe now.” I gather him up in a hug, trying to get him to calm down. He is shaking, his clothes sticks to him and I pull the blankets up one-handedly, trying to cover him with them. 

 

“Do you want a change of clothes?” I say, very aware of the fact that the Malfoy I know (not very well, I might add), would hate for anyone (especially me) to see him this way. 

 

“Maybe a bath?” I add, something about a warm bath always makes me feel safer. 

 

“Yes.” He says, having succeeding in calming down somewhat. 

 

“I'll have Kreacher draw you a bath and I'll get something for you to sleep in, ok?”

 

“Yes.” He nods his head in a way that tells me that he doesn’t really understand what I'm saying. 

 

“I'll come right back.” I say, easing out of the half-embrace.

 

“No. Please Harry.” His distress is not as acute as before, but still tangible. 

 

My strength lies mostly in defence and offence magic, not healing. 

 

“I'll be back I promise. Kreacher!” I call the little miscreant, someone needs to stay with Malfoy. 

 

“Yes master.” He pops up, eyeing Malfoy with unconcealed curiosity. 

 

“I need you to draw Malfoy a bath, and stay with him. Give him some of my pyjamas to wear.” 

 

“Certainly master.” He bows sarcastically, or at least I think it is, I never really got him to stop with the 'master' epithet, but somehow he makes it sound like an insult so it feels justified in an odd sort of way. 

 

He pops out and back in in two seconds flat, with a neat stack of pyjamas in his hands and I immediately go for the floo. 

 

“Hermione!!” I call her, my knees on the stone hearth. Sometimes, I think that all the Blacks were masochists, it would explain a lot. 

 

“What’s wrong?” She turns up almost instantly. 

 

“Malfoy has some kind of drug in his system, he's hallucinating.” I answer.

 

“I'm coming through.” 

 

She steps out of the floo, her hair flying wildly behind her.

 

“Where is he?”

 

“Blue room.” She takes off and I'm following close behind her, as always it seems. 

 

When we arrive Malfoy is submerged in the opulent blue-room bath. The only thing visible is his blond head. 

 

“Hallo Draco! I'm just going to do a quick diagnostic spell, all right?” Brisk and to the point. 

 

“Yes.” He seems a bit shocked to see her.

 

She waves her wand in a complicated pattern, and mutters something under her breath. Not the standard, from what I can hear. 

 

“He needs the Purifying Filler Harry.” I run to the potions cabinet at once and grab the purple potion. 

 

“Is he going to be alright?” I ask as soon as Hermione poures the potion down his throat. 

 

“Yes. Let him sleep it off.” She pauses, “You know, I really should be asking why Draco is in your house.” 

 

“Not now, I'll tell you later.” 

 

“You better tell me later Harry James Potter.” She gives me a half hearted glare on her way to the floo. 

 

“Kiss Rose and Ron from me.” 

 

“I'll make it extra sloppy.” And then she's gone. 

 

The door to the blue-room is still open and Kreacher is perched on a chair beside the bed. 

 

He's already asleep. I can't help but watch his chest rise and fall for a while, he looks peaceful, innocent. But non of us are innocent any more, maybe we never were. 

 

–--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The water is comfortably warm, I'm trying to tame my hair somewhat, no idea why I'm still trying, all though I am famous for achieving the impossible. I've been standing in the shower, trying not to wank for ten minutes, but distractedly soaping some areas extra vigorously. I turn the taps to ice-cold until I manage to calm down. But the image of Malfoy's perfect arse won't leave me and I wind up having a morally ambiguous wank anyway. 

 

The sun is already warming the stone floor of the kitchen and I start cooking breakfast, feeling suddenly famished. Who am I kidding? I'm hoping that he will wake up and be persuaded by the food to stay for a bit. 

 

Half way through the bacon I hear an awkward clearing of throats. 

 

With rumpled hair and looking so-not-Malfoy in my old sweatpants and a tshirt, I feel a bit heavy in the chest area because of him looking so delicious. He looks like I just had him and he can't be arsed to get properly dressed because he knows that I'll just have him again. In other words, perfect. 

 

“I light of recent events, I suppose a thank you is a social requirement.” He takes a deep breath. “With that being said, I would like to add that you blew my cover.” 

 

“You never actually said thank you.” I smile at him.

 

He swallows. 

 

“Come in and have some breakfast.” I graciously let him off the hook. 

 

He lowers himself to a chair slow and a bit suspiciously. 

 

“Tea or coffee?” I already started on my own cup of coffee. 

 

“Do I look like an uncut American?” If the sass is back, he must be feeling better. I pour him a cup of English breakfast and add a little squeeze of lemon without stopping to think about how I know how he takes his tea. The look of surprise and delight in his face when I give the cup to him tells me he is as shocked as I am. 

 

“What happened yesterday?” I say and serve him with bacon, eggs and tomatoes. 

 

“Someone saw us getting in and out of the bathrooms together. Fortunately, they thought that we were in the neighbouring stall, and they missed our conversation. So your cover should be intact.” And suddenly, it's like Malfoy is a whole other person, he straightens his back and look me dead in the eyes, and I find out that all-business Malfoy is also super sexy. 

 

“I'm sorry I got you in trouble.” I'm sincere, still a bit shaken from yesterday. 

 

“Well I expected you to mess it up, so I'm not surprised that you did.” He frowns. “And I guess I was at least partly at fault for confronting you in there.” 

 

“That's very magnanimous of you.” I smirk. He looks at me as if he agrees. 

 

“In any case, we need to take their operation down, and I believe that I have enough information on them to stick them in Azkaban for an unforeseeable future.” He pauses and swallows like he has a bad taste in his mouth, “But I need you to help me to apprehend them when they receive their next shipment, and I can't say with absolute certainty when that is.”

 

Of curse, the shipment must be accounted for so that it doesn't end up on the streets. If we bring them in sooner it's just going to be snatched up and distributed by someone else. 

 

“Anything you need.” I try to smile reassuringly, but his frown tells me I've missed the mark. 

 

“What I need, is for you to get your hands on the time and place of the delivery.” He takes a dainty little sip of his tea. 

 

“Sure, I'll get it done.” I forgo the smile this time. 

 

“Well then, thank you for breakfast, it was surprisingly enjoyable. If you give me my clothes, I can be out of your hair.” He stands.

 

“I'm sure Kreacher took them to get them cleaned” I wipe my mouth with a napkin, “You could stay, we should come up with a plan together.” 

 

“Are you incapable of doing your job?” He gives me a challenging stare. 

 

I stand up and stalk towards him. When I'm close enough for him to have to raise his head to be able to look me in the eyes, I say, “I assure you, I'm very capable.” He inhales sharply.

 

“But this was your case to begin with, you should be able to see it through.” He sways towards me minutely, and I reach out to take hold of him, but he takes a step back. 

 

He's blushing again. Combined with the rumpled clothing, he is the epitome of adorableness. 

 

He clears his throat. “Yes, well while that is all well and good, I need to get home to feed the cat.” He stumbles out of the kitchen towards the floo. Fleeing the scene. 

 

Well, maybe next time. I move to clean the table with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think one or two more chapters after this one, I hope you will continue reading! <3


	3. Called in front of the court

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this story will be 4 chapters, and there will be smut to come, promise. I just like stringing the poor boys along I guess.

“Master Potter.”

 

He's dragging a slow hand down my chest and his fingers are leaving tingling trails on my contracting abs. My cock takes a definite interest as he's mouthing wetly on the side of my neck, humming like a purring cat.

 

“Master Potter, wake up.”

 

The illusion shatters and I open my eyes to find Kreacher looming on the side of the bed, staring at me reproachingly.

 

“Good morning?” I don't think he's ever been in my room before.

 

“Quite.” He clenches his eyes shut and takes a breath, as if praying for patience. “An owl has arrived, master Potter.”

 

“Oh.” I reach for my glasses, which of course is redundant because of the fact that I no longer wear any.

 

“Oh, well let it in.” I'm still a bit confused. Never really got used to the thing were small members of an other species hang around your house. Especially in your bedroom.

 

“Yes, well I already did, due to the fact that I'm not an imbecile.”

 

“Why did you feel the need to wake me then?” I look around to find something to wear.

 

“It's urgent.” He rolls his eyes at me and finally steps out of my room.

 

How does he know that it's urgent? Do they communicate somehow?

 

When I get to the kitchen a large eagle owl I sitting on the table, staring at me not unlike Kreacher did just moments ago.

 

“Hi there sweetie.” I give her a hand to sniff before I pet her behind her ears. She stares at me like I'm an idiot and drops the letter pointedly on the table.  
The Malfoy crest. Should have known this diva belongs to an even bigger one.

 

“Calm down pretty girl.”

 

The letter is a short one;

Mr Potter,

Mr Malfoy requests a meeting with you, preferably at your earliest convenience.  
Mars will deliver your reply within the hour,

The ancient and most glorious House of Malfoy

 

I think that this is the most arrogant letter I have ever received, and considering my daily correspondence with the Ministry, that says a lot.

 

Nevertheless, I can't refuse him, not after the rumpled look he sported the last time I had the pleasure of seeing him.

 

I scribble a time and my address on the note, even though I know that he knows it.

 

My meeting tomorrow morning with Mr Silkes leaves only tonight for my meeting with Malfoy, considering that we should have a plan before entering the dragons den.

 

“Harry!” Hermione is shouting from my floo again. If impatience had a name, it would be Hermione. 

 

“Coming!” I tread barefoot to the main floo, it's not the first time she sees me in my Dudley cast off’s, decidedly more well-fitting now days but so worn they're positively see-through.

 

“Hey babe!” She whistles appreciatively when I step into the living room. 

 

“Yeah, yeah save it for your husband, you hussy.” 

 

“Come through, Ron's making pancakes.” Her head disappears before I have a chance to answer. 

 

“And there he is, our third wheel. I was missing the feeling of being ignored by my own family, so glad you could stop by. No really, I mean it.” Ron grumbles whilst Rose gurgles excitedly and Hermione kisses my cheek. 

 

“Hello soul-sucker.” I kiss Ron on his cheek. These three are the only people in the world that I stand being physical with. 

 

“Hello cock-sucker.” He says and winks. “You just served that one right up didn’t you?” He looks extraordinarily smug. 

 

“You focus on serving up those pancakes instead of making us listen to your lame homophobic slurs, big guy.” I grab his butt for emphasis. 

 

“Hey! If your looking for the big stuff it's on the other side.” Hermione smirks. 

 

“Too much information.” Me and Ron say unanimously. 

 

“Nothing you haven’t ogled before.” She looks at me knowingly. 

 

“Hey! He's like a brother to me.” I try to defend myself.

 

“A brother with a really big dick, right?” Should have known Hermione would be relentless.

 

“Lalala pretending that this conversation is not happening.” Ron sings. “Cover the ears of that baby.” He adds, and his blush clashes awfully with his gingerness.

 

“Oh she doesn't understand us yet Ron. Don't worry.” Hermione sounds like this is a conversation they've had before.

 

“But can we really be sure of that? She is your daughter after all!” Ron flips a pancake in the pan. 

 

“Stop it with your foreplay guys, you have company.” I say rubbing a hand over my face. 

 

“Hey Ron! We're making His Royal Slutiness go all prude!” 

 

“Did you make me come over here to call me names or did you have something else to say?” I say while they're still laughing. “If not, I think I'll go back to bed.” I start setting the table in contrary of my words.

 

“Yes, well, you're called in front of the court to explain the improbableness of a certain house-guest, as you well know Mr. Potter.” Hermione says.

 

I rub my hands over my face again. 

 

“Yes. Okay. I'm investigating this not-yet-illegal potion. And Malfoy is involved. Sort of.”

 

“So he's a Unspeakable.” Ron says.

 

“Let's leave that uncommented.” I answer. 

 

“Affirmative then.” Ron nods and starts to serve the pancakes. 

 

“Why are you butting-in Harry?” Hermione sighs. 

 

“He needs me.” 

 

“He doesn’t need you.” Hermione says. 

 

“Hey!” Ron says, “Leave his saviour-complex alone, it's not his fault.” 

 

“Stop psycho-analysing me.” I say and tuck in to my pancakes. 

 

“It's his job.” Hermione says.

 

“And mine.” I retort.

 

“And mine. Even though I'm currently a stay-at-home dad.” Ron interjects.

 

“I haven’t forgotten Ron.” Hermione sighs.

 

“Really? Cause sometimes it feels like it.” Ron bristles.

 

“Hey! Stop it with the domestic, you have company!” They're always arguing. 

 

“Let's focus on Harry's problem alright?” Hermione says. 

 

“Aaand back to being ignored.” Ron shuffles a lot of pancakes in his mouth, clearly out of spite. 

 

Hermione gets a pinched look on her face. 

 

“I don't have a problem.” I say.

 

“Oh, she's right, you do have a problem.” Ron says.

 

“Thank you Ron.” She answers. 

 

“Yes, fine. But I'm handling it.” I aggressively cut my pancakes. 

 

“Until I am, you mean.” Hermione looks at me cuttingly. 

 

“Just leave off, alright?” I say.

 

“Fine. But you know as well as I do that this is going to end up with a 'Hermione told you so' moment, right?” Ron says.

 

“Maybe not.” I petulantly say.

 

“Fine.” Hermione answers testily.

 

“Fine.” I answer.

 

“Eat your breakfast.” Ron says, pointing at me with his fork. 

 

\----------------------–-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

I nervously run my hand through my hair again. Malfoy is late. 

 

I'm pacing in front of the fireplace. Hermione isn’t the only one who's known for being impatient.

 

Kreacher is letting out disappointed sounds every time he walks by the room. Clearly just to annoy me, nobody cleans the same hallway three times. 

 

And he's succeeding. 

 

I pour myself two fingers of whiskey. 

 

Kreacher sighs again. 

 

And then the floo goes off. 

 

Malfoy strides out of it gracefully and raise an eyebrow at the whiskey-tumbler. 

 

“Sorry I'm late.” He says, sounding not sorry at all. 

 

“You look lovely.” I smile at him. And he does, with his pressed charcoal grey dress pants and a pristine white shirt.

 

“This isn’t a date Potter.” He looks pointedly at my attire, jeans and a black tshirt.

 

“Doesn’t change the fact that you look lovely.” I answer him.

 

“I brought you your...” He coughs, “sleeping attire. Freshly laundered. Or maybe laundered for the first time, I can't tell.” He gives me a bag containing the clothes Kreacher loaned him. 

 

“Thank you.” I keep smiling.

 

“Let's get down to work then, shall we?” He runs his palms down his thighs, accentuating them. 

 

“Sure. Do you want a drink?” I gesture to the drink in my hand. 

 

“No thank you.” He takes a seat on one of the stuffed armchairs and proceed to un-shrink some papers that he lays out over the coffee-table.

 

I down my whiskey in one go and put the tumbler back on the bar. 

 

“This is all the information you need to make a successful arrest.” He points at the papers, “but I'm a bit unsure about the nature of the next shipment.” 

 

“I know that it will contain a large amount of Focus, but there's a chance that there will be more experimental potions as well. I have not yet been able to identify the brewer, but this is a list of all potential high-level brewers in the European countries. The boat with the shipment is definitively coming from an other Europen country, and the chance of the potions being shipped twice is highly unlikely, since the potions needs to be fresh for them to work.” Malfoy shows me a list of names, of which I recognise two from previous cases. 

 

“What do you recommend that I order?” I say, reluctantly impressed.

 

“About 2000 bottles would seem like a legitimate order for a private party like yourself.” He says.

 

“How do we guarantee that we'll receive our order from this shipment and not the next one?” I point out.

 

“You need to stress your urgency.” He subconsciously shifts closer. “Tell them about Blaise's New Years party and tell them you promised to bring something new and exciting.”

 

“And what does Blaise say about being dragged into this?” I ask.

 

“He owes me.” Malfoy gets something dark and intriguing in his eyes. 

 

“That's an excellent plan.” I say, shifting through the papers containing all the details I need and more. He's obviously done his research. 

 

“I do know how to do my job, you know.” He says, affronted. 

 

“Never doubted it for a second.” I say. 

 

He snorts. “I never knew you were such a good liar, Potter.” 

 

“Oh you should see me when I try.” I wink. “Would you like some dinner? Kreacher always makes too much food.” I can't help but drag my hand through my hair again.

 

“Yes, fine. Plotting always makes me famished.” He lets the corner of his mouth tilt up for a few telling moments. 

 

“Let's go down to the kitchen then.” I stand and offer him a hand, which he refuses. 

 

I lead the way downstairs and feels his eyes on me the whole way there. Kreacher has laid the table for two and I get one more almost-smile when he sees the lit candle.

 

We sit down and tuck in without preamble. 

 

“This sauce is exquisite.” He says. 

 

“So are you.” I really can't help myself when he's around. 

 

“Really? You should see me when I try.” He smirks. And it looks like foreplay.

 

“Oh I would love to.” I let my stare get heated as I trail it down his indecently tight shirt. 

 

“I'm sure you would. Do I need to remind you of this evenings non-date status?” 

 

“Oh I'm painfully aware of that fact.” I raise my eyebrows pointedly.

 

“Didn’t anyone tell you that it's impolite to talk about your cock in decent company, Potter?” If he were capable of laughing, it feels like he would have. 

 

“You’re the one who keeps bringing it up.” I smirk.

 

“Stop it, you abominable cretin.” He actually gives me a smile this time. 

 

“I'll behave. Promise.” I wink. “Until you say otherwise, that is.” I can't help but add.

 

He blushes. He eats small and neatly cut forkfuls. The polar opposite of Ron. 

 

“Do you want to come with me to the drop off? You could use the cloak.” I say.

 

“Yes. I suppose that would be acceptable.” He answers. 

 

“I'll contact you with the details then?” I ask. 

 

“As soon as you're able.” He answers/orders. He eats the last pieces of duck on his plate.

 

“Thank you for dinner Potter. I would say 'good luck' but luck seems to always be on your side doesn’t it?” He stands. 

 

“So far, I guess.” I shrug. 

 

“I look forward to your owl then.” He says, and when he notices my expression he hastily adds, “It's a figure of speech, Potter.” 

 

“Sure it is.” I smirk again. 

 

“Incorrigible.” He says. “I'll see myself out.” He adds and flees my kitchen once again.


	4. Gentlemen with non-gentle affairs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it took so long to finish this! But the final chapter is here at last, and also: SMUT! Yay!
> 
> I love getting comments, thank you so much for that! 
> 
> WARNING: Very explicit sex.

“Mr Potter, a pleasure.”

 

“Mr Silkes.” I answer. His whole office is designed to intimidate, from the ridiculously high ceiling to the slight hight difference between the chairs, his a bit higher. The furniture is a dark polished wood, the décor consisting of shiny blacks interspersed with expensive modern art. The view is arguably the pièce de résistance, large windows looking over the Thames. The whole thing screams 'money' and 'power'. A bit overstated, I guess. 

 

“Did you enjoy yourself the other night?” He gives me a knowing smile, a slight nod towards the rumours of what me and Malfoy supposedly did in the bathrooms. 

 

“Yes. I found the sample satisfactory.” I give him a look indicating that I know perfectly well what he's hinting at, but choose not to comment on it. 

 

“Yes, the product.” His smile fades as he interlaces his hands on the desk. “How much of it do you want?”

 

“I'm thinking 2000 bottles.” 

 

“Excellent.” He smirks. 

 

“How soon can I get them?” I take out my phone to access my calendar. 

 

“What's the rush?” He frowns at the sight of the muggle apparatus that I'm using with great familiarity. 

 

“I'm attending Blaise Zabini's New Years party and I promised to bring something exciting.” I level him with a look. “If you're unable to meet that deadline, I can take my business somewhere else.” I move to put my mobile back in my pocket. 

 

“No, no worries.” His hands open up in a conscious way to show me that he's willing and able to negotiate. 

 

"Perfect. When and where?” I take my phone back up.

 

“What about price?” He takes a sip of coffee from his small cup, probably espresso. 

 

“Oh, I'll know if the price isn’t right. But you wouldn’t dream of trying to swindle me, would you?” I let my magic rise closer to the constant barriers that constantly suppresses it. The small cup rattles on the saucer. 

 

“No, of course not, Mr Potter.” His eyes betray some nerves when they dart rapidly to the cup and back again. “We're all gentlemen here, are we not?”

 

“Exactly.” I let my teeth show in a slow smile. 

 

“I'll contact you with the details of the delivery.” His aggressive spark seems to have dimmed after the cautious display of my magic. Good. 

 

“You have two days.” I stand. “I'll see myself out.” Making it clear that any and all contact between us will be on my terms. 

 

The muggle bug I planted on his desk is going to record any and all conversations in that office. Hopefully, our meeting will prompt him to call someone about the drop. 

 

I step out of the building, taking a deep breath to settle my nerves. Then I put my headphones in, listening to the furious scribbling of Mr Silkes. Wizards are so blind when it comes to the perks of the Muggle-world. I hope they never learn.

 

\------–--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Draco!” I let my eyes travel appreciatively over him, but keep it uncommented this time. He knows what he looks like, dressing in a pale silk robe that hugs him like a second skin. 

 

“Potter.” He smirks in a way that only people as arrogant and equally gorgeous as him can get away with. 

 

“I would prefer it if you stay inside the cloak at all times.” I shake the cloak a bit and hold it out for him. 

 

“I am not a mere spectator in these sort of affairs, Potter. It would do you well to remember.” He sneers, making his pointy-ness more pronounced. 

 

“And I would be infinitely more successful if I won't have to worry about you getting hurt.” He crosses his arms over his chest. 

 

“If you keep on being condescending, I will hurt you myself.” I take another step towards him, still holding the cloak open. 

 

“I trust you, It's just that I'll worry regardless of your magical prowess, Draco. You could be the world most powerful wizard and I would still worry, that's what I do.” He glances at the cloak in a not-yet-convinced way, “You could always stay here, I don't have to take you with me.” I say, and he bristles in a very offended way. 

 

“You wouldn't dare!” He grabs the cloak and puts it on, disappearing instantly. 

 

“Ready?” I say and feel his hand clutch my arm in a bruising way. I take that as a yes. 

 

My dissapparating crack echoes before my living room blinks out of sight. 

 

“Mr Potter!” Mr Samaras exclaims, reaching out to shake my hand. 

 

“Mr Samaras, thank you for a very enjoyable party.” I say, smirking. 

 

“Oh I heard you enjoyed yourself, alright. Maybe next time you won't take advantage of your hosts hospitality?” His grip tightens in mine, but releases when my magic rises, without me having to call on it this time. 

 

“I have no idea what your talking about.” I say with my blandest expression. 

 

“Oh don't worry about it,” He gives me a sharp look, “What's another whore to the curb, right?” My grip on my wand tightens. 

 

“Mr Samaras.” Mr Silkes says, breaking off our stare-off by putting his hand on Samaras arm. 

 

Mr Hansen and Mr Thomas walks in from a door to the far right with a crate of potions. The storage warehouse that we are standing in are empty except for us, one desk and two folding chairs. The shipment arrived the day before and the Aurors were there but couldn't risk taking it, as Mr Hansen was the only one there to receive it. They would have to wait for all of them to be gathered, like today. The boat and it's crew were going to be apprehended as soon as they reached the port in Greece. 

 

It smells like fish in here. I can't help but imagine Malfoy's constantly turned-up nose shivering in displeasure. It makes me want to laugh.

 

“2000 bottles of Focus, as ordered.” Mr Hansen says, with a slight foreign accent. 

 

“Thank you kindly.” I say as I unleash a silent locking spell. I walk towards the crate, and all eyes are on me as I take out my wand to check the legitimacy of the potion with a modified revelio. The spell comes up positive. I pocket my wand.

 

“The price is a fair 3573 galleons.” Mr Silkes says. His eyes betraying nothing.

 

“Fine.” I say, reaching for my pocket. As I do, all four of them aim their wands at me. I can't help it, I laugh. 

 

“Are you really that nervous?” I ask, “I can't say I blame you though, you should never have agreed to meet me in the first place.” I smirk. I guess it's game over. 

 

“Are you threatening us, Mr Potter?” Mr Silkes says, “Surely you can see the folly of provoking us when it's four against one.” I can already see Mr Hansens eyes darting towards the exit. Not so dumb after all. 

 

“Oh, it wouldn't even matter if it was forty against one, as long as that one is Harry Potter.” Malfoy takes off the invisibility cloak with a dramatic flourish. I feel a bit annoyed but also amused. I should have known. 

 

“Dragon? What the fuck are you doing here?” Mr Samaras says, his wand faltering for a short second when he tries to decide if he's going to point it at Draco or not. He decides the disregard him as a threat and bring it towards me again. Wrong decision. Draco is as deadly as they come, and very sensitive about being belittled. 

 

“Shut up, you despicable flobberworm of a man. Let the grown-ups talk.” Draco says, pointing his wand at Mr Silkes. I chuckle again. 

 

Mr Silkes turns and glowers at Mr Samaras, “You let an Auror live with you?” 

 

“I'm not an Auror!” Draco says, insulted, before Samaras can answer anything. 

 

“I don't see what you and your little blond side-kick are trying to accomplish, Mr Potter, but I suggest that you stand down before the situation becomes unmanageable for you.” Mr Silkes sneers, but I can see that he's getting a bit apprehensive. 

 

“You should stand down before you hurt yourself.” I say, still not even holding my wand.

 

“I would like this to be a duel of intelligence, but I see that you are unarmed.” Mr Silkes smiles in a very self-congratulatory way. 

 

“I don’t need wit to duel, I have a wand. Hell, you know what? I don't even need a wand.” I say, before I unleash a silent stunner towards him. Mr Silkes jumps out of the spells trajectory, but it manages to hit Mr Thomas in the leg. He goes down in a heap but screams a crucio that is easily deflected. I hit him with a stunner in the chest as I shield myself from Mr Silkes rapid spell casting. 

 

Draco fires off an Inflatus towards Samaras, but he throws himself behind the desk. “Lacarnum Inflamarae!” Samaras screams and shoots a ball of fire towards Draco, who ducks and casts a reducto on the lone table, blowing it to bits, followed quickly by a stupefy. One down, three to go. 

 

I fire a quick expelliarmus, causing Mr Hansen to drop his wand, followed by a depulso when he almost catches it again. 

 

“Expulso!” Silkes screams, throwing all his magic behind it but it still breaks on my shield charm. 

 

“Stupefy.” I dredge up a fair amount of my magic and manage to stun both him and Mr Hansen. 

 

“I give up!” Mr Thomas drops his wand voluntarily. Draco snorts. “Finally someone with some preservation skills. Slytherin, Mr Thomas?” 

 

“Yes.” He gives me a look of absolute dread. 

 

“Good man.” Draco says, before hitting him with an Incarcerous. He turns to me and whispers a casual Muffliato in Mr Thomas direction.

 

“You're going to stay here and wait for the gang of screw-ups to come and apprehend them. After the usual platitudes you are going to excuse yourself, and you are going to go home to fuck me into the mattress. And when I say 'fuck me' I do not mean some hurried tryst in the shower before you pass out. If you decide to take me on, I need you to do it properly. I need you to ruin me for any other cock but yours.” He exhales before pinning me with his gaze again.

 

“Scared Potter?”

 

I let him see the full intent of my promise before answering, “You wish.”

 

–-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

He is standing in the doorway, clothes still on but his hair undone.

 

“Draco.” I say, a little embarrassed about the fact that I couldn’t stop the reverent tone from tainting the words with a slightly desperate edge.

 

He turns around and stares at me, a flush of pink dusting his pale cheeks and drags a hand through his hair.

 

“Harry.” He cocks a hip to seem more relaxed then he is. I step into his space.

 

I trail a hand on his cheek, wrapping it around his slender neck and tilting his head so that I can bend down and put my mouth almost where I want it to be, keeping a small distance so that he can breach the last millimetres. He looks imploringly into my eyes and we share the same air for a couple of agonizing heartbeats.

 

And then it happens. He surges up to meet my lips, laying both his arms around my neck and plasters his body to the front of mine. Our closed-mouth kiss lasts for a whole inhale and my senses fills with him. And we open our mouths at what feels like the same time.

 

His tongue tangles with mine, and as I pull a bit on his hair he moans loudly. His eyes open in surprise at the sound. Likes hands tugging his hair. Noted.

 

I snog him deliberately and very thoroughly, trying to get him to emit some more beautiful sounds, and he opens his mouth wider. His hands on my back grabs me harder. My hands trail down his back to take two handfuls of that gorgeous arse and when I squeeze, his whimper makes everything inside me suddenly go heavy and hot. 

 

My magic gets a bit impatient and lashes out to vanish our clothes. He gasps. I shrug, a bit embarrassed. 

 

“That was incredible Potter. Don't shrug like it's nothing.” He glares at me. 

 

I can't help but feel somewhat relieved, my magic makes some people scared and a lot of people terrified. I stroke my hands up and down that delicious bare skin and he shivers. I proceed to suck on his jaw and he cards his long fingers through my hair. 

 

We walk backwards towards the bed, and he captures my mouth with his again, and sucks on my bottom lip. 

 

I lift him so that he can put his legs around my waist, and I lower him gently onto the bed, pausing to look at his bare form. “You are so beautiful.” I can' help but tell him, feeling my cheeks heat a bit at the disclosure. 

 

“I know.” He smirks, but his slightly pink skin tells me he's pleased. 

 

I lower myself down on him, letting my gaze trail his body as I do so, and his arms come up to drag me down faster. 

 

My heart feels like it's beating it's way out of my chest. His eagerness is intoxicating. I kiss him again and he strokes his hands alongside my torso, over my arse and back up to my neck again. It's like he doesn't know what to grab first. 

 

I splay my hands across his chest, thumbing his nipples and he drags in a sharp breath. I trail kisses down his neck and when my mouth reaches his collarbone I can't help but suck and bite it. It's delicious, just like I imagined it would be. His body surges towards mine on a particularly hard suck. His back arches off the mattress and his nails breaks my skin as he drags them down my back. It stings and I mouth him hard enough to bruise. His moan is unsteady. 

 

“Can I?” I ask at the same time as the small bottle of lube surges into my hand. I noticed that my magic turns him on, and I'm not afraid to use any advantage it gives me.

 

He only gives me a heated stare and slowly spreads his legs, way further than they should be able to go. The minx. 

 

I rub a generous amount of lube on my fingers. He stares at them with hungry eyes. 

 

“Are you ready?” I trail my fingers on the inside of his thigh and feel his muscle spasm. Delightfully so. “Just do it Potter” He's scared of what his trembling and shivering is revealing. 

 

I decide to cut the teasing short and I stroke his fluttering hole decisively, “Ah!” He breathlessly exhales. I let him get use to the pressure for a second before I press in, and he gives a full-body shiver as I penetrate him for the first time. I stroke his silky insides once, twice before I press in with another finger. “That's it Potter” He closes his eyes. “Open your eyes Draco.” I press my fingers gently on his prostate, and he inhales loudly, opening his eyes.

 

“Keep your eyes on me.” I tell him, and he scowls but nods anyway. 

 

I introduce another finger, and lick a broad stripe with my tongue from his neck to his ear. I nip his earlobe with my teeth before whispering, “You're beautiful like this.” 

 

“Mmm...” He nods like he agrees. I put another finger in, and he drags in a breath through his teeth.

 

I push my fingers in with steadily increasing force, and it forces another broken moan from him. 

 

“I'm ready.” His fingers grips and releases the sheet in time with my thrusting fingers. 

 

“Bit more.” I say, kissing his disappointment away. 

 

It doesn't take long before he forcibly breaks the kiss.

 

“Please. Please Potter!! Just do it. Put it in me.” He throws his head back and forth, “Unngh.... I need it!”

 

“No you're to perfect like this. You're going to come on my fingers, just like this.”

 

“I can't! I can't! Just fuck me you bastard!” His breathing is ragged and shallow.

 

“You can love, and you're going to.”

 

He tries to reach down to grasp himself, but I can't let him can I?

 

“Oh no, love. You're going to come untouched.” I take his hand in mine and kiss his shoulders in (I admit it) poor consolation. 

 

“AAAAAAAAAH! Just fuck me you fucking twat!” He almost sobs, turning his head to bite at any part of me that he can reach.

 

“Imagine how good it's going to feel when I take you. Imagine my cock gliding in so smoothly, so easy, just like it's meant to. Imagine it happening slowly, imagine feeling every fucking millimetre of my cock slowly going in to your perfect arse.” 

 

“Oh Merlins balls! FUCK” He exclaims, spurting white globs of come, his insides throbbing, making him deliciously tight. He is going to feel amazing on my cock. 

 

“You're so gorgeous baby. So perfect.” I kiss every inch of his flustered, pink face. 

 

“Do you want my cock as well?” I ask him, licking his sweet ear, whispering the words.

 

“Yes. And I'll beg for it if I must, you absolute wanker.” He turns his face so that I can kiss his perfect red-bitten mouth. 

 

“No need sweetness, I'll give it to you.” I pet his sides, taking my hand all the way up to his soft hair, scraping his scalp with my nails, tugging on his hair a bit. Which earns me a delicious whine. 

 

“Then get to it!” He smirks at me before claiming my mouth in a deep kiss once more. 

 

I bring him to a sitting position, and he follows me willingly, desperately.

 

My hands are almost wide enough to wrap all the way around his arms as I stretch them out towards the ceiling. Still kissing him, I think about a small, focused Incarcerous and I smile when his wrists comes together and ties in a rope hanging from the ceiling. 

 

“Is this okay? I don't trust you not to touch yourself without it.” He's absolutely sinful like this, stretched out with his knees splayed wide on the mattress and his torso like a tight bow, hung from the ceiling like a fucking gift. 

 

“Your magic is hot, Potter. Use it on me anyway you like.” He knows exactly what he looks like, judging from the raised eyebrow and the self-satisfied little smile. 

 

“As you wish.” I give him an appreciative once over before I crawl closer to him once more. 

 

I splay my hands over his arse, thumbs dipping in his delectable dimples, taking the globes in my hands and squeezing hard. His head drops immediately, showing off his amazing long neck. I can't help but put my mouth on it, marking and sucking on it, one of many things I wanted to do for what seems like forever. 

 

My hands travel down his taught thighs and I grip him in the folds of his knees, lifting slowly so that he's dangling from the ceiling for real, so exposed with me holding his legs apart and taking some of his weight. 

 

“Ah” He exhales breathlessly, his face and torso turning pink again. 

 

“You like this baby?” I ask, putting my cock underneath him so it will nudge him teasingly where he wants it the most. 

 

“You know I do” He tries unsuccessfully to hide his face in his arm. 

 

I gather him close to me and whisper in his ear, so perfectly positioned, “Are you ready?” 

 

“I've been ready forever you heartless beast!” He glares at me. 

 

And I thrust into him, just a small amount, but enough to penetrate the small muscle at his entrance, and his whole body becomes slack, boneless. 

 

“Finally.” His eyes are almost misty with his relief. 

 

“I know love, I know.” I kiss him again, feeling his trembling body held up by my arms, feeling his opening spasm periodically, trying to draw me further inside. He's intoxicating in his brilliance. 

 

I glide in so, so slowly and he gives me small breathy 'Ah's' for every inch I give him. It takes me all I have not to just slam it in. When I'm fully immersed in him, I kiss him again, sweet and slow. 

 

I must pause before he drives me insane. Maybe it's to late already. 

 

Slowly, carefully, I start small thrusting motions, swallowing his moans with my kisses.

 

I splay my knees wider, trying to get better leverage and trying to bring us even closer together. 

 

“Come on Potter. Fuck me!” He bites at my mouth. If he's trying to provoke me into fucking him harder, he's succeeding. I'm not known for being patient. 

 

I get so low that I'm almost not inside him anymore, and he tries to keep me inside by making himself as tight as possible, and the last of my control snaps away like it wasn't even there in the first place. Maybe I never had it. 

 

“Sweet MORGANA!” He screams as the force of my thrusts echo in the mostly empty bedroom. 

 

I keep on it as he starts to flail, quite unsuccessfully in his binds. 

 

“YES. Yes, yes, yes, yes.” He starts to chant. “Give it to me Potter, give me all of it, don't hold back! Not with me” 

 

I latch on to his neck to stop myself from answering him with a scream, that's how fucked I am. 

 

His moans are accompanied by the steady 'slap, slap slap' of our fucking and I can't help but ask for another favour, “I've thought about this so much. Obsessively, constantly” I confess in his ear, “I need to feel it with my fingers... Please can I?”

 

“Yesss!” His eyes light up with a slightly manic expression, “Do it Potter! Put your fingers in me” 

 

I carefully extract my cock from him, and he whines like he's losing a limb. It certainly feels absolutely catastrophic. I turn him around so that he rests on his knees with his back towards me, but I don't release him from the Incarnerous. 

 

I open him up by grabbing two handfuls of his beautiful arse and slowly drive myself into him again. When my cock is about halfway, I position two fingers alongside it and slowly push them in as well. 

 

“AAAAHG” He tries to stifle his scream by biting his arm again. I kiss his back wherever I can reach. 

 

“YES!” He screams again as my cock and fingers are all the way inside him. 

 

“That's it baby. You're perfect.” I say, watching our joining with a surge of possessiveness that almost scares me in intensity. I rub against his prostate and he sobs.

 

“Ah. Ah. Ah.” He tries to get his breathing under control but he's almost hyperventilating. 

 

“Schh baby. It's alright. You're amazing.” I pet him and keep still so that he gets a chance to calm down a bit. 

 

“It's so good. Oh Merlin it's so good.” He cries. I love it when he cries. 

 

“You're so good baby. So beautiful.” I keep kissing his nape, sucking on a vertebrae. He gets his breathing under control and I start to slowly thrust again. He tries to sit on his knees again and leans his head on my shoulder. I drag my left hand all the way from his hip to his neck and can't help but stroke his perfectly pointed jawline. He opens his mouth like the perfect fuck that he is. 

 

“Yes baby, just like that” I say praisingly while stuffing two fingers inside his mouth, “You just want to be filled up, don't you? Stuffed and rimmed and probed like this? Worshipped like this?” 

 

He moans around my fingers and sucks on them like it's the only thing keeping him alive. 

 

“I want to fill you up everyday, I want you stuffed with my cock or my come at all times baby. Keep you happy.” I confess in his ear. I thrust my cock as far up him as I can get and  
then I keep it there, with my fingers as well, just making small circles with my hips, scissoring my fingers carefully. 

 

“AAAH..... MERLIN! FUCK!” He opens his mouth wide enough to scream around my fingers, I pull them out to keep him from choking. 

 

“AAH...” He pinches his eyes shut and bares his teeth. 

 

I trail my left hand down across his stomach and cards it through his pubes to get his cock between the 'V' of my fingers. “YES!” He exclaims, his eyes opening wide. 

 

“Oh no love. I'm not jerking you off. You're going to come on my cock, right?” I kiss his cheek to lessen the sting of my words. 

 

“FUCK YOU!” He starts to trash wildly, and I hold him even closer to me with my free arm to keep him from straining his arms, relinquishing the lose hold on his cock. He sobs. 

 

“Please. Please Harry.... I need to come... Please!” And he's crying again. 

 

“Yes love, I'll make you come, I promise.” I kiss him on his gorgeous neck and carefully extract my fingers from within him. He whines and tries to keep them inside. “No Potter... I want,” I interrupt him, “I know what you want baby, but I'm going to give you what you need instead.” I wordlessly release him from the Incarcerous and he collapses against me, he immediately tries to go for his cock but I grab his hands and put them on the headboard. “Do I need to bind you again?” I ask him.

 

“No” He rests his face on his arms again. I don't believe him but I don't cast anything else. For now. 

 

I grab his hips and start fucking him again, this time hard and fast. He spreads his legs wider and cants his arse for a better angle. 

 

I can't help but moan. He's so beautiful.

 

His left hand leaves the headboard to reach for his cock and I immediately slap him hard on his right arse-cheek. Hard enough to leave a mark. “YES! FUCK YES! HARDER” He puts his hand back on the headboard.

 

I slap his perfect, pink arse again. “Uuungh...” he bites his arm again. 

 

I take my left hand and put it in his hair. I get myself a handful of his hair and pull so that his back is arched and I hold him up by his hair alone. His arms scramble uselessly for support. I slap his arse with my right hand again and his orgasm takes us both by surprise. 

 

“GAH... ah...” His hands comes to rest on the wrist of the hand in his hair as he comes and comes.

 

His insides are milking my cock, trying to strangle it, and I can't help but come as well. One, two hard thrusts and my cock erupts inside him. 

 

I lower him gently to the mattress and spoon him, laying both of us on our sides. I can't help but stroke him and kiss him. His pale form looks almost glowing in the light from the window, his sweat rendering his skin absolutely irresistible. Soft and smooth beneath my hands. 

 

When I start to pull out he whispers “Don't.” And who can resist that? So I stay inside him, petting his hair. “You are so perfect Draco.” I whisper to him. “I know.” He smirks. 

 

–----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“I could have killed you in your sleep.” Draco is sitting on a conjured chair beside my bed, dressed in severe dark robes, tightly wound and buttoned up to his chin. 

 

“Good morning to you as well, love.” I smile at him.

 

He frowns and subsequently looks adorable.

 

“Are you being deliberately obtuse?” I walk over to him even though he has his wand trained on me. “I'm trying to tell you that someone with a lot of power wants you dead, and they wanted me to do it.”

 

He tries to hold that frown but I can see that he's getting distracted by my naked form.

 

I put my hands in his armpits and lift him up so that he can put his legs around my waist, and to my great satisfaction, he does. 

 

I proceed to plunder his mouth, I kiss him like he's already mine. He gives in like he knows it. 

 

“You were supposed to see me at that hotel. I knew you were going to get involved, you're so predictable Potter.” He says when we part. 

 

“I don't regret it.” I shrug. 

 

“That's because you're an idiot.” He smiles at me like I'm his idiot.

 

“Perhaps.” I kiss him again. Just a small peck this time. I already made my point.

 

“This portkey takes you straight to Majorca. Take it, lay low for a while and let me figure out who it is that wants you dead.” 

 

“Who doesn't?” I can't help but nibble a bit on his neck, adding more bruises to the growing collection.

 

“Be serious for once!” He smacks me on my chest.

 

“Ok, fine,” I raise my head to look him in the eyes, “But only if you promise me I'll see you soon.” 

 

“Perhaps.” He smirks.


End file.
